The Untold Story of Cesar: Retold
by Horses of Shadow and Night
Summary: A young orphan moves into the opera house with her only possession, a black stallion named Cesar. When the girl discovers the secrets of the Phantom of the Opera, she requests his help to save her stallion. Can this horse bring them together? Eric/OC. REWRITTEN!
1. Wandering Child

I know that stealing is wrong, I know that the little morsel of bread I clutch to my chest in this dark alleyway does not belong to me. Yet as I stand here and catch my breath, I can't feel very sorry for taking it when I need it more than the person I snatched it from. I'm so small, people always assume I'm no older than 11 or 12 even though I turned 15 years old not very long ago. I've always been small and thin, but with the lack of food lately I've gotten even smaller and thinner. I never would have thought that possible, I don't think it's supposed to be possible.

I must look pretty pathetic, being nothing more than skin and bones. My dark brown curls are a tangled and matted mess on my head, despite all my attempts to prevent it from happening, and my skin is as pale as I imagine a ghost's skin would be. On the bright side, I looked in a mirror the other day, and my eyes still look very pretty. They're big and brown, one of the stablehands that worked at my parents' horse farm always told me my eyes were the most striking thing about me. I wonder what ever became of him, I hope he found another job, he was always so nice to me.

My family once had one of the finest equestrian establishments in all of France, just outside of Paris. Very rich people would purchase riding and carriage horses from us, since they were so well bred. They were Andalusians, many of the ones used for breeding had been imported from other countries, and had all sorts of fancy paperwork. They were worth a lot of money, though I'm not sure in the end that they were auctioned off for their full value.

A few nights ago, our house caught fire in the middle of the night. I still have nightmares about it, it took so much from me. My father threw me out of a bedroom window, and I landed in the bushes below. Neither he or my mother were so lucky, they both perished in the fire, leaving me completely alone to fend for myself.

I've gotten by I guess, stealing morsels of bread like the piece I've just finished. I also still have a place to sleep at night, which I suppose it better than nothing at all. The winter is approaching though, and it's beginning to get very cold. Tonight I didn't wear my slippers, I only own the one pair and I don't want them to get worn out. But my bare feet are cold on the wet cobblestone streets as I begin my trek home.

As I leave the city, I grab a few handfuls of grass. I have family to feed, and though a few handfuls of grass isn't much, it's more than nothing. When the remains of my home come into view, I try not to look at it too much because it makes me sad. There are no horses anymore, they were all auctioned off after the fire and so now all the barns are empty. Two of the five barns have collapsed, the one closest to the house got a bit damaged by the fire, and since I couldn't fix it eventually it just fell down. The roof of another was torn off by a storm, and it fell not too long after that.

Two of the three remaining barns are just empty shells right now, they were just ordinary barns. The last barn though, the one where we kept our stallions, is the best one. It's not very big, but it certainly had the most work put into it. I would compare it to the inside of the Opera Populaire, it's just beautiful. I went to the Opera Populaire once, with my parents. It inspired my dream of becoming a dancer, a graceful ballerina who happened to ride horses on the side. However the fire happened a week after that, so I guess that means I'm never meant to be a dancer or a rider after all.

The stallion barn is also the place I call home now. As I walk in I'm greeted by the sweet scents of horses that still cling to the walls. I remember the big stallions that had once occupied the now empty stalls, they were the prettiest horses I'd ever seen and had names so fancy I could hardly even pronounce them when I was young. There is one horse here, the one I've picked grass for, he is still too young to be a breeding stallion but I know eventually he would have ended up here.

His name is Cesar, and his pedigree is perfect. The finest mare and the finest stallion had been hand selected by my mother and he was the result. She bred him for me, as a birthday present several years ago. As I approach his stall I can't help but smile affectionately as he hangs his head over the door and whinnies to me. I rub his velvety nose before offering the grass I'd picked, he nibbles it out of my flat palm delicately, as though afraid of hurting me. It's been raining lately, which is why he can only have this handpicked grass, but when the weather clears I plan to take him outside for some real grazing before snow falls and covers all the grass up.

Exhausted from my trip into the city, I pet him a final time before walking over to the stall next to his and letting myself in. I stretch and yawn before walking over a pile of straw I've been sleeping on and lying down. I've completely cleaned this stall except for this bit of straw, and brought the few belongings I have in here as well. I'd had a hideaway in the barn where the mares delivered their foals, because I liked to watch, so I have a blanket and a lantern, as well as a few books. I also have a stuffed rabbit I brought out of the house with me that night, and a music box that had been in the pocket of my dressing gown which I put on the night of the fire before being thrown out by my father.

I shake the thoughts from my head, not wanting to fall asleep thinking about the fire. Instead I think of the beautiful black stallion in the stall beside me, and all the things I want to do with him. Eventually I manage to fall asleep, and thankfully don't have a single nightmare.

* * *

I wake up mid-afternoon the next day, and it's drizzling outside. I lay in the straw for a little while, not moving. It's warm and though I wish I had a mattress I can't complain that I'm uncomfortable. Cesar's whinnying eventually rouses me, and I pull myself to my feet before smoothing out my dress, or at least trying to. It's my nightgown, and it was rather plain. Once upon a time it had been white, but being outside and sleeping in a barn has stained it light brown. I've tried washing it but I don't think that helped, I think it might have made it worse.

I walk to the end of the barn where I keep Cesar's grain, measuring it out carefully. We're beginning to near the bottom of the barrel, but I know my mother always kept tons of grain in all the barns, so all I'll have to do is go get another barrel when I do run out. All the grain is exactly the same after all! I'll be able to feed Cesar for a long time, even with the loss of the grain barrels in the barns that fell down.

Cesar waits patiently as I place the food in his bucket, before eating it up hungrily. His water bucket is halfway empty, usually I wait until it is entirely empty or right before I leave for the city before to fill it. With everything taken care of, I enter Cesar's stall and take a fistful of his mane, using it to pull myself up onto his coal black back. He hardly bats an eye at me as I lie on my tummy, resting my head on his neck. My thoughts drift once again to the opera house.

Perhaps I could still become a ballerina, why not? All I had to do was go down there and ask! I sit up, that was the answer! I had to go ask for a job! I dismount and leave Cesar's stall, standing out in the middle of the barn isle. "Watch this Cesar," I say, rolling up onto the balls of my feet and spinning around. I'm pretty dizzy when I stop, but I didn't fall down so that must mean I did it right! Cesar nickers at me before dipping his head down and grabbing another mouthful of food. He doesn't seem very impressed, "I have so been practicing! I'll practice more though since I believe I'm supposed to be on my toes when I do it."

The small stallion lifts his head and flickers his ears at me, as though he's still skeptical. I spend the rest of the day 'dancing' up and down the barn isle, and I figure out that if I keep my focus on one spot when I spin it stops me from getting dizzy. Finally I decide that I'm ready to go down to the Opera Populaire and ask for a job, so I enter my stall and flop into the straw to catch my breath. "When I go to Paris today, I'll go near the opera house, just for a peek," I tell Cesar. He snorts and I smile, "Don't worry, I'll be fine!"

With my breath caught, I stand and slip on my slippers and dressing gown, trying to make myself look at least a little presentable. I also try to comb my fingers through my hair but quickly give up on that endeavor as I hit knot after matt after knot. It'll have to do, I guess. Before I leave I fill Cesar's food and water buckets, just in case I take a long time coming back. He tosses his head and I hug him around the neck before kissing his nose and promising him I'll be back as soon as possible.

Closing and latching his stall door shut, I leave the barn and set off down the road towards Paris once again, hopefully for some food but more importantly, to see the opera house.


	2. Who is he?

**A/N Hello readers! This probably should have gone in the first chapter but I'm putting it here. Well, I've been watching my story, The Untold Story of Cesar for a while now. People keep adding it to their favorites, and it is one of my most viewed stories traffic-wise even though I wrote it 4 years ago! It's hard to fathom how that could even be possible. **

**Despite all the positive feedback though, I'm not really satisfied with the original. It was my first ever fanfiction, written when I was only a freshman who hadn't really found her voice. There are a LOT of mistakes in it, and I feel like it wasn't really written as well as it could have been. I will be graduating high school now, and as a summer project, I'm going to take on this story again. Only this time, I hope for it to be much better than the original, which had many plot problems and moments where the Phantom was completely out of character. **

**I would like to thank everyone who has supported the original for all this time. I promise to leave it up as it is, even when this one is finished. So many people were inspired to start writing because of that story, and that's great! I'm so happy that I inspired people! Writing is such a wonderful outlet with so many possibilities. I hope that this story might inspire new writers just as the original did. Thanks everyone for reading, and please feel free to review!**

* * *

It's still drizzling outside when I finally make it into Paris. Night has settled over the city, and everything is dark except for the flickering of gas lamps down the street. That's one thing about Paris, it's beautiful at night even in the rain. I don't have time to admire the scenery though, I have an opera house to find. The only trouble is, I'm not really sure exactly where it is. Usually I stay closer to Notre Dame cathedral, since people are more willing to give food in that area rather than forcing me to steal it. I don't think the Opera House is anywhere near there though, and there is no one around to ask.

After wandering around for what feels like an eternity, I step around the corner and finally see it in all its glory! I wonder if there's a performance tonight, there's quite a bit of light coming from inside. I would go up the steps and try to enter by the main entrance, but there are guards standing near the door and I'm certain they'd shoo me away since I look so bad. I try to find a side entrance instead, walking down the side of the massive structure.

Suddenly I stop though, I hear music! That must mean I'm close to an entrance! I follow the sound until I'm lead to a small grate that looks like it leads right into the opera house! It's open a crack, and with my small size I could easily squeeze myself through. I could get in through here, and sneak right under the stage, sneak right into the backstage area! And then, I might be able to find where the ballerinas are, and they might let me dance with them. I'm so excited at just the prospect I feel as though I might burst!

Lowering myself, I put my legs through first before wriggling and squeezing myself through. Contrary to what I thought, there isn't ground directly on the other side of the grate. In fact, When I get all the way through I'm dismayed to find myself dangling from the grate. It's too dark to see how far down the ground is, let alone what is on the ground. Taking a deep breath, I let go and plummet a short distance down. Instead of hitting the ground though, I find myself in water. Great, now I get to swim around in sewage! Actually though, the water doesn't smell like sewage, it appears to be an underground lake of some kind rather than a sewage lake. But what would I know of swimming in sewage?

I push away from the wall and begin to swim forward, I think it's forward anyway. Luckily I'm a pretty good swimmer so I'm not really all the worried about being in the water, for now. I can still hear the music, and I use it to guide me through the darkness. It doesn't sound like it's coming from above though, it sounds like it's coming from somewhere up ahead. That's rather strange isn't it?

The water seems to be getting shallow, and I stagger to my feet. The water is about thigh deep, and I begin trudging my way towards the music. Now I can see light, visible just around the corner up ahead. I take a brief moment to catch my breath before peeking around too see what it is. There's a lot of light, I can't really describe it. In a way, it almost looks like a pathway to heaven or something. In another way it reminds me of the fire that took my parents' life, but I quickly shake that thought out of my head. I begin walking towards the light source, my muscles burning with the effort. As I get closer to the lights, the music stops, which makes me a little wary. However I can see that the light source is candles, lots and lots of candles.

The water is only knee deep now, and I nearly fall flat on my face as I gain more stable ground. I hadn't realized just how long and exhausting a swim I'd taken until now. I see the shore though, and I drag myself to it before flopping down on my belly in a very unladylike manner. I don't care though, sweet land! Besides, it's not like there's anyone to see.

Just as I think it, I hear a noise that immediately grabs my attention. I look up and to my surprise I see a man standing behind the candles! He looks just as shocked and surprised as I do, and we both stare at each other for a very long time. I'm not exactly sure what to do, obviously I've intruded on this man, so I begin backing myself back into the water. I'll just have to find land someplace else! The man doesn't say anything, just continues watching me as he slowly makes his way down towards the beach I'm backing off of.

I'm kneeling waist deep in the water and still backing deeper when he reaches the shore. I stop, and once again we gaze steadily at each other. He doesn't seem very old, perhaps 20, 25 at the most. The right side of his face is covered in a mask, but what isn't covered is quite possible the most handsome thing I've ever seen in my entire life.

Finally he speaks, and his voice causes my breath to catch in my throat, "Come here, child." He holds his hand out, beckoning me to come closer. He doesn't seem very frightening, but I'm still a little scared at having come here uninvited. What was he hiding behind that mask anyway, what kind of man wore a mask? A killer! A rapist! Someone who didn't want to be caught! Still, I find myself drawn to him, and he doesn't look like a madman. I return to the shore slowly, but don't have the energy to stand once I reach solid ground again. I feel very vulnerable, on my knees before this stranger.

"Forgive me monsieur, I did not mean to come here. I'll leave if you wish it," I say, looking up at him warily. I've always been a bit shy with strangers, but I have no idea what this man will do to me for invading his, whatever this place it.

He kneels down to my level, meeting my gaze with one that commanded power. His visible eyebrow shoots up, "I don't believe you'll be going anywhere silly child, you can hardly stand," he replies. I suddenly feel very foolish because I know he's right. He stands, grabbing my arms and pulling me to my feet. He isn't very gentle about it, but he doesn't hurt me either. My legs feel like jelly and I fall into him ungracefully. He catches me, standing me up once more. "You obviously aren't a chorus girl, where did you come from?" he asks me, pulling me up the beach towards the candles.

"I... I climbed in through one of the... grates outside," I tell him honestly. My teachers always said honesty was the best policy, and I found that when I was in trouble it actually held true. My voice trembled a great deal when I said it though, so I can only hope this man believes my story.

"Your name, mademoiselle?" he prompts, leading me up a few sets of stairs. I trip and stumble my way up, but he catches me each time.

"G... Gabriella," I manage to stammer as we reach the top. I'd nearly forgotten my own name, I haven't said or heard my name in over two months. Hearing it now is so strange.

We stop for a moment so I can catch my breath. He stands beside me, rather patiently, and waits until I am ready to continue. "Monsieur I... I can leave, really, if you don't want me here," I say after a moment, looking up at him. He's much taller than I, and it's a little intimidating.

He gazes back at me silently before saying, "Non, you may stay here for tonight. In the morning, when you are rested, I'll lead you out. However, in your time here you are not to touch anything without my permission, and you mustn't bother me. I will take you tomorrow when I'm good and ready, understand?"

I merely nod at him, I understand quite clearly! I close my eyes for a brief moment, I'm too tired to think about starting trouble anyway! Honestly, I wouldn't mind if he just left me here to sleep on the stairs, that would be fine! However he doesn't seem to agree, for he suddenly lifts me off my feet and begins carrying me. I stiffen at first, startled and afraid of his intentions, however I'm so tired that after a moment I relax, letting out a soft sigh.

A handsome, mysterious, masked man is carrying me under the Opera Populaire, how strange! I'm not exactly sure why, perhaps it's because I am so tired, but I feel safe in his arms. Perhaps it's because, despite his powerful and intimidating appearance, he seems more unsure of himself that I am, and this is his place!

I feel myself being laid down on something soft. Last time I slept in a bed was before the fire, and it doesn't take very long for sleep to completely overcome me. Before drifting to sleep though, I smile, for my dreams shall be filled with ballerinas and the mysterious masked man.


	3. Dream Come True

I am woken up by the sound of soft music. I think it's strange, because I haven't wound my music box in a very long time. It also doesn't play the song I'm hearing now. Perhaps I'm still dreaming? Then I remember, and the realization causes me to sit up abruptly and look around at my surroundings. I am definitely under the opera house, all that stuff wasn't a dream. Careful not to make a sound, I climb out of the bed I must have spent the night in, and tiptoe over to the door.

Peeking around the corner, I don't see much, just a lot of candles, the lake, and finally I manage to spot the man sitting at a rather large organ. I've never seen an organ that big before, I wonder how he got it in here. I'd ask him but, he told me not to bother him. What am I supposed to do then? Carefully, I make my way down towards him. I don't make a huge effort to stay silent, because I want him to hear me coming so he doesn't accuse me of sneaking up on him. He turns just before I reach him, and I expect him to make a remark about him asking not to be disturbed, but instead he said, "Good afternoon child, you obviously slept well."

"I'm sorry monsieur," I reply, looking down at my feet, "I'm ready to leave now."

He stands, towering over me. I can't tell whether I'm shivering from being cold or trembling from being afraid of him, but he notices either way. "Why did you come to the opera house in that?" he asks.

I look up at him, he seems only mildly concerned but I answer him anyway to be polite, "It's all I have monsieur." I take a timid step back from him, feeling rather exposed in just a dressing gown and a nightgown. He merely looks me over for a moment before pushing past me and disappearing into another room. When he returns, he's carrying a black cloak which he offers to me. I shake my head at him, "Oh non, I could never...," before I can even finish he's placed the cloak on my shoulders. I sigh, "I cannot thank you enough for your kindness monsieur," I tell him, genuinely thankful for everything he has done for me.

He begins walking away, leading me back down towards the beach. It occurs to me that, seeing as he lives under the opera house, he might have connections. Perhaps fate had led me to this man because he could take me to where the ballerinas were! I clear my throat timidly and he immediately freezes, turning around to look at me, "This is, one more thing you could do for me, please," I venture.

When he doesn't say anything, I continue, "The real reason I came here, was because I wanted to be a ballerina. Could you... Can I... Is it possible for me to be a ballerina here? A chorus girl?" That's what he'd called it last night, a chorus girl, right? Perhaps I'm crazy, but I think he smiles slightly at my request. Nodding, he takes my hand and leads me the rest of the way down to the beach where a boat is waiting. I can't believe I didn't notice it last night! There was a boat this whole time? I wish that boat had been parked beneath the grate I came in here through.

I sit at the front of the boat where he directs me to, while he takes a pole and uses it to push us off the shore and into the water. He stands over me, but I'm a little less frightened now. He's going to help me! Silently, he guides the boat through lit passageways, and I wonder how he doesn't get lost. All these watery corridors looks the same to me. The awkward silence between the two of us causes me to feel a bit uncomfortable, so I try to start a conversation with him, "So, you live down here all by yourself?" I ask.

He merely nods, but I don't give up. "Don't you ever get lonely monsieur?" I ask, my head begins filling with questions and I wonder how many I'll be able to ask before we arrive at our destination.

"Sometimes," he says shortly, at least he's honest. Before I get to ask another question he asks me one instead, "Won't your parents be worried about you?" He said the word parent with slight distain, and another question I have about him pops into my mind. I wonder if he asks the question as some kind of revenge, since my questions seemed to have made him so uneasy.

"My parents are both dead monsieur, I live alone, like you. However, I must get back to my home eventually, my horse will be wondering where I went," I tell him.

Once again, he raises his visible eyebrow at my comment, "Your horse?"

I nod, "Yes, my horse. His name is Cesar, and he's the greatest stallion in all of Paris. If I don't return tonight though, he'll be hungry." The boat finally bumps into shore and he steps over me to get onto the dock, tying the boat before helping me out. Once again silence reigns as we walk through passageways together. However it's short lived, as he informs me when we're closer to our destination, "I have a, friend, who will help you become a ballerina mademoiselle."

We reach a door, located in a rather secluded hallway that's dimly lit by a lantern or two. I can hear noise down the hallway, and I know we're quite close to the heart of the opera house. Behind the door I hear someone moving about before they open it a crack. A dark haired woman pokes her head out, "Erik?" she asks, sounding surprised to see him. The man's name is Erik? I'll have to remember that. She opens the door and ushers us in quickly, closing and locking the door behind us.

"What are you doing here Erik? Who is this child?" she asks him, it sounds almost like she's interrogating him. Perhaps I should be more afraid than I actually am.

He doesn't falter though, he remains collected as he explains the situation to her. "This young girl is a homeless orphan who managed to sneak into my home last night. She wishes to become a ballerina, if you'll have her."

The woman begins circling me, like a bird circling its prey. I can see her eyes examining me critically, and I hold myself as tall and graceful as possible. Finally she stops in front of me, looking over at Erik, "She'll make a fine dancer." I sigh in relief, letting out the breath I didn't realize I was holding. I can't help but smile broadly, I'm in! I'm about to become a ballerina at the Opera Populaire! Erik is about to leave, but I stop him and give him a brief hug. It's rather inappropriate for me to, but I can't help it I'm so thankful and happy!

"Thank you thank you monsieur! I promise I will repay you somehow!" I tell him.

He stands stiffly, as though I've just shocked him, before offering a light smile once I've released him, "I... hope to see you perform soon my dear," he said before turning and vanishing into the hallway, closing the door behind him and leaving me alone with this woman.

She smile at me, "My name is Madame Giry, I am the ballet mistress here at the Opera Populaire. What might your name be?" she asks.

"Gabriella," I reply, offering a small curtsy to be polite. "Excuse me, but I need to go and collect a few things of mine. I promise I'll come straight back!" I tell her.

She nods, and I'm about to leave when she cuts me off, "Not so fast! You aren't going out looking like that! Come here child, and let's get you properly dressed!" She has a bath drawn first, and I take my time scrubbing my body clean of all the filth of the Parisian streets as well as the dirty lake water. Madame Giry gets me clean clothing, and helps me get dressed. Having the corset tightened is a bit of a shock, as I haven't worn one in so long. Then she has me sit on the floor before her, pulling out a hairbrush and beginning work on my hair. For hours I sit, wincing as she mercilessly battles each and every snag until my hair tumbles down my shoulders in silky curls once again. She ties it back with a ribbon, and I thank her over and over.

Now that I'm presentable, she hands me some money, "Take a cab to get your things, and come straight back. I will be waiting on the front steps to show you around and help you settle in. Does that sound all right?" she asks.

I nod, taking the money before pulling on the cloak Erik had given me, "It sounds perfect!" I reply. She takes me out, leading me into the heart of the opera house. People stare at me as I walk, they must be wondering who I am and why I'm here. I try my best to hold my head up, at least I look decent now. Madame Giry takes me out through the stage, leading me to the front of the opera where carriages are lined up, waiting for passengers. I hail one easily, handing the driver the money and telling him the address. He seemed confused, but at my assurance drove me out of Paris to the abandoned farm I would no longer be calling home.

I thank him, telling him he doesn't need to wait for me before running towards the stallion barn. Cesar greets me as I enter, "Cesar! Oh Cesar!" I call to him happily, entering his stall and hugging him tightly around the neck. "I'm so sorry I was out so long. But guess what? We are leaving here! I'm going to be a ballerina, and we're going to live in the Opera Populaire! Yes we are!" I tell him. He nickers and shoves me playfully with his nose, he seems just as happy as I do and I'm glad.

Quickly I rush out of his stall and down to the tack room. All the racks are empty, with cobwebs and large spiders, except one. There is one saddle and one bridle, both belong to Cesar. They're black, with gold and silvery designs on them. I take them and return to Cesar, placing his bridle on first and then his saddle. He was already clean, groomed and shining like always, so I had no problem tacking him up. Besides, we were in a rush! I have to say, Cesar looks so handsome all tacked up, it's been a while since I last had him tacked but it never gets old seeing him shining in his tack.

With Cesar ready to go, I enter my stall and gather up the things I want to take. I grab my stuffed rabbit, my music box, and two of my favorite books. That's all I can fit in the blanket which I'll be carrying them in. I also take Cesar's breeding papers, which I put in one of the books to keep them protected. If ever disaster struck, Cesar could sell for a lot of money if he had these papers attached. Not that I am ever going to sell him, but it's still nice to have them.

Before leaving, I take one final look around the stallion barn, as well as the rest of the horse farm. I'll likely never come here around, and I feel tears roll down my cheeks as I remember one last time how wonderful things had once been here. All the horses, and the people, and my family. My eyes fall upon an empty stall with the tarnished gold name plate, that was the stall of our best stallion, Rose Noire, Black Rose. I remember him as though I'd only seen him yesterday, he was the tallest horse I've ever seen, velvety black with a long flowing mane and tail like silk that blew in the breeze and made him look like a horse out of a Da Vinci painting. He was Cesar's father, because not only was he the best but he'd also been my favorite stallion in the whole barn.

I wipe my tears away, I'm going to start all over and it's going to be great! It sure will! I lead Cesar out of the barn, pulling myself and my makeshift sack up into the saddle. He prances in place and tosses his head excitedly as I gather the reins, he's been cooped up for so long I bet he's ready to fly! I'm proved right as I tap his sides, he charges out onto the road and gallops headlong towards Paris. He is fast, but I know I can slow him down any time I want to. Steadily, we ride fast and smoothly all the way to Paris.

As we enter the city I slow him into a canter, and then a trot. Once again I get a little lost but I still manage to find my way back to the opera house. Just like she said she would be, Madame Giry is waiting on the steps as I ride up. I pull Cesar to a halt and slide off his back, grabbing his reins and leading him over to meet the stranger. His ears are pricked curiously and he looks around alertly at all the strange sights, smells, and sounds.

"Is he yours?" Madame Giry asks, holding a hand out for the stallion to sniff.

I can't help but nod proudly, "Yes, he's mine. He's all I have left, he can stay can't he?"

She smiles and nods, "Yes of course, follow me, we'll put him in the stables."

Cesar and I follow Madame Giry around the side to a quiet little horse stables. I deeply inhale the strong smell of horses and smile, it's so familiar and welcoming! A husky looking man approaches, who Madame Giry talks to. He grumbles and leads us down the stable row to an empty stall for Cesar before going to deal with some people who'd come in behind us.

Gently, I untack Cesar and rub him down so that he shines. Once everything seems to be in order for him, I rub his nose, "Behave yourself, I promise I will come visit very soon," I tell him. Kissing his nose lovingly, I close his stall door and walk to Madame Giry. I can feel his eyes follow me as he puts his head over the door and watches me walk away, disappearing into the opera house to begin my new life as a ballerina.


	4. Is Everybody Drunk?

**A/N This is a long chapter... sorry.**

* * *

I never thought being a ballerina would be easy, and it's a good thing I never thought that because being a ballerina is very hard. On the bright side, the resident ballerinas were incredibly inviting, and by my second week I had a good grasp on how things work around here thanks to them. The ballerinas themselves have a pecking order of sorts, the older ballerinas are in charge and get all the lead dancing parts, the younger and less experienced ones have to fight for their positions. The worse you are, the farther back on the stage they place you during chorus numbers and ballets.

However, I've already progressed leaps and bounds, literally. I'm the best ballerina in the whole opera house, at least I will be. Madame Giry says I have a lot of potential as long as I work hard. And this past month, I've been working incredibly hard to catch up to the other girls my age. I've had to stretch and dance from dawn until dusk, luckily I was already pretty flexible before I came here so I was able to progress pretty quickly. I was able to go up on pointe after a month of hard work every day all day. Watching some of the other young girls still trying to just do a split hurts just to watch. Their faces contort and they cry out in pain as they attempt to force themselves closer and closer to the ground. One day they'll make it there, if they don't kill themselves first.

My first night in the opera house I met my new friend, Lizzy. She sleeps in the cot next to mine in the dormitories, and she is the chattiest and most energetic girl I've ever met. She has beautiful golden hair that falls just past her shoulder blades down her back, and bright blue eyes that sparkle with curiosity and wonder like a little child. She has been here at the opera house since she was 10, and she's my age. However despite her added years on me here, she's not the greatest dancer. She blames it on the fact she's still growing, but I think she might just naturally be a bit clumsy. She tries her hardest though, and Madame Giry notices, which is good. Maybe when Lizzy stops growing she'll get a lead dancing role.

So aside from the ballerinas, there are many others in this opera house. Chorus members who sing but don't dance, musicians who play in the pit as well as their conductor, Monsieur Reyer, there are also stagehands, people who sew costumes, people who make wigs, people who make props, maids who clean, carpenters who maintain the opera house, cooks who cater the opera house staff, people who work with horses beneath the stage to help fly backdrops and heavy scenery, and the opera's lead soprano and tenor who are practically royalty. We all live together under this one roof, Lizzy says there are about 700 people here and I completely believe her!

Many of us are on the stage today as we rehearse for the upcoming opera. I forget what it's called, it's in Italian I think so I'm not even all that sure what it's about. Even if it were in French I'm not so sure I'd understand, because Carlotta, the lead soprano and prima donna, is screeching very loudly and incoherently. I see some of the maids out in the audience put earplugs in, and I envy them as I stand beside Lizzy in the wings. She nudges me, "Come on, let's go change for the next act," she whispers. The two of us slip backstage, and only once we're safely away do we allow ourselves to burst into a fit of giggles.

"Doesn't she sound _wonderful_?" Lizzy asks, emphasizing the word wonderful sarcastically.

I nod in agreement, grinning ear to ear, "Oh yes Lizzy, I'd say she's in her prime right now!"

Suddenly Lizzy stops, looking around wide eyed, "Did you hear something?" she asks. We're the only two people in this particular corridor, even so with all the activity in the opera it's possible she heard one of about a million possible things.

"You're always hearing things," I tell her, rolling my eyes.

She continues looking around suspiciously, "Yeah but I really heard something this time! What if it's the Phantom?"

Oh yes, that was the other things I learned living in the opera house. There was a ghost, a phantom, who liked to cause trouble by misplacing things, causing sudden loud noises and disruptions, speaking out of thin air, spying and stalking various people, and enjoyed generally harassing Carlotta and the managers of the opera house. I have a strong feeling who this ghost might be, but I've never said anything to any of the other girls about it. In any case, I don't really believe in half the stories I've heard about him from the stagehands, they describe something out of a gothic horror novel, not a ghost or even a person.

Because of this, I tell Lizzy with utmost confidence, "The Phantom is not gonna do anything. At most he'll drop a note, order us to pay him 20,000 francs, then vanish without a trace." I'm impressed that Erik is able to maintain such a high salary actually, considering he doesn't do anything except sit around beneath the opera house writing threatening notes to the managers. It makes me wonder what exactly it is he does with all that money. Perhaps he uses it to stock up on candles and buy cloaks? Who knows!

Lizzy laughed at me, tossing a lock of hair over her shoulder and shrugging, "Yeah, I guess you're right," she says. We enter the dormitory together, several other ballerinas are just finishing putting their costumes on, helping each other tighten corsets and tie up hair. "I bet one of those drunk stagehands are watching us again," she says, unlacing her current costume and tossing it onto her bed.

"They'll get theirs sooner or later," I tell her as I strip off my current costume. I pull my ballet costume on, it has a velvet purple bodice with a white tulle skirt that falls to the knee. The hem is lined with two horizontal lines of purple ribbon, which go all the way around the dress. The sleeves are tulle puff sleeves, that also have purple ribbon like on the skirt. Finally I have to have my hair tied up in a bun, with some locks falling down the shoulders. Lizzy helps tighten my corset and I do the same for her.

We sit to tie our pointe shoes on quickly, by the time we're done most of the girls have long finished and are already back out on stage. Lizzy and I run carefully back to the stage, only to find we are far from being late. Carlotta is still screeching her head off, and Lizzy and I both groan quietly. Compared to the relatively quiet hallways backstage, hearing Carlotta sing is like being shot in the ears. She is nearing the end of her song though, so Lizzy and I part ways to get into our positions for the ballet.

The rest of the rehearsal runs smoothly, though Madame Giry makes us run the ballet 4 times in a row. Monsieur Reyer seems frustrated by the 3rd time, considering we were supposed to do a straight run-through and now the ballet is holding up the rehearsal. Still, Madame Giry gets her way and keeps us dancing until it's perfect for tonight. It's a relief when we're finally dismissed to get ready for tonight, I'm bubbling with excitement and anxiety, this will be my first ever performance! There have been 2 operas since I've been here, but Madame Giry and Monsieur Reyer didn't believe I was ready then. Now I am.

Lizzy and I head up to the dormitories together and I flop onto my cot, rather ungracefully for a ballerina. Lizzy giggles, "Have the first time jitters?" she asks me, sitting on her own cot and untying her pointe shoes. I look across the room to where one of the older ballerinas is making out with one of the already drunk stagehand. Lizzy follows my gaze and laughs, "Oh don't worry! We haven't had one of those drunkards fall on us yet!" she tells me. I think she's trying to be encouraging, but I can only laugh. Laughter is good though, and I do feel better about the performance tonight.

I stand up and sit next to Lizzy on her cot, "Yeah, but you'd think they would right? I mean, fat tipsy drunkards on somewhat tipsy walkways?" I ask, smiling.

"Maybe the tipsiness of the walkways balances them out!" Lizzy replies, smiling brightly.

I flop on my back on the bed, Lizzy flops back beside me so we're both staring at the ceiling, "Is it scary performing in front of an audience?" I ask.

Lizzy shrugs, "Not really. I'm usually too busy trying to stay in line and get the steps right to even notice the audience is there though. I feel worse for the actors who actually have to look at the audience and say things. Then again, Carlotta seems to love that, so I guess it depends what kind of person you are."

"I'm still nervous," I confess.

Giggling, Lizzy nudges me playfully, "You'll be perfect!"

* * *

Lizzy was right! Well, almost right, there was a dance in act 2 that I was off on. I started a beat late and had a challenging time playing catch up and keep up with the rest of the group. Some of the older dancers kept shooting me glances, and eventually I was able to get in time with the music, however I think my mistake was rather noticeable.

It didn't matter though because the audience still applauded loudly for us as we took our final bow before walking off the stage. What a rush it was! I've never experienced anything quite like that and I loved it! Yes it was a little scary, but I feel so accomplished and proud of myself. All the hard work was worth it, and I know I've made the right decision in coming here to the opera house to be a ballerina.

With the performance over, the backstage area has suddenly become very busy and crowded. There's a lot of wine going around, and everyone is celebrating a job well done. The same thing happened with the last two performances, and I felt a little left out since I hadn't actually participated in the show. However now that I actually performed, the electric atmosphere makes it feel even more rewarding. Lizzy and I change quickly out of our costumes before heading out to join the celebrations.

By the time we get out there, nearly everyone is drunk. And by everyone I mean, _everyone_, even some of the ballerinas. Only the younger ballerinas who are not yet brave enough to get themselves in such a state are sober, and they huddle together in a small group in an attempt to ward off the drunk stagehands who are getting a little rowdy. The party is just barely under control, and Lizzy and I make sure to remain on our guard. We end up joining that little group, more or less.

Lizzy very skillfully punched a stagehand in the gut to get him to go away when he attempted to grab her behind, forcing him to leave her alone. "Has one of them ever, gotten you?" I can't help but ask as we watch the party from the sidelines.

Lizzy has a small platter in her hand with a slice of cake on it, which she takes a bite out of before answering, "Not yet, but one of these days I'm sure my guard will be down and it'll happen." I can't believe she's so accepting of that, but then again, considering the environment we live in, perhaps I'm not so shocked. That fact is almost the norm around here.

As the party dwindles down and the crowds thin Lizzy and I decide to return to the dormitories. It's late as we change into our nightgowns, many of the young ballerinas have already gone to sleep now and the older ones are sitting talking to each other and playing quiet games of cards. As I'm brushing my hair before bed, I notice something sitting on my pillow, an envelope. Lizzy notices it as well, and walks over as I pick it up to examine it.

"Who gave you this?" she asks, picking up a single red rose with a black satin ribbon tied around it that had also been on the pillow with the envelope. I couldn't possibly have an admirer, so who could it be from? Only one way to find out I guess. I open the envelope and pull out a note, written in elegant scroll.

The other ballerinas who had been playing cards must have noticed, for they stop their game to come over as I read the card aloud to Lizzy,

_"Dear mademoiselle Gabriella,_

_I have been looking forward to your first performance. You were quite charming and lovely tonight. I will be looking forward to seeing your next performance. You were a little off during Act II, I hope to see you improve. _

_Best Regards,_

_~O.G."_

I know who sent this. "Who's O.G.?" one of the younger ballerinas asks, rubbing her eyes. She must have heard the commotion and woken up.

Lizzy's eyes widen, "The Phantom! The Opera Ghost! He sent you that!" she exclaims loudly. In that instant it seems every ballerina in the dormitory is surrounding me, staring at the note and the rose in wonder. Lizzy takes the note out of my hand and examines it, turning it over in her hands, "Do you know the Phantom? Have you ever met him?" she asks. The room fell utterly silent and all eyes were on me as they waited for an answer. What should I say? Should I lie? Should I say yes? Would they hate me or be suspicious if I did?

Finally, swallowing uneasily, I lower my voice to a whisper and say, "Yes, I have met him."

Once again I'm met with silence, before the room bursts into chatter. They all have so many questions, it's hard to catch them all and I don't think I want to answer a single one. I don't think Erik would like me to, he was obviously a very private and secretive man. I think I've just very naively betrayed his trust, but what was I supposed to do?

"Did he hurt you?"

"Does he have a nose?"

"What's his voice sound like? I heard it sounds like an angel!"

The questions were finally stopped by Madame Giry coming in and slamming her cane on the floor to get everyone's attention. "Enough! All of you get to bed!" she said sternly. The young girls scampered to bed like frightened mice, while the older ballerinas trudged to their beds begrudgingly. Lizzy hands me the note back before getting into her bed and lying down. I shrink under my covers, tucking the note carefully underneath my mattress and clinging to the rose. I don't want to let it go, I don't want those other ballerinas to touch it or even look at it.

The room is dead silence and dark, and just when I think everyone has fallen asleep except me I hear Lizzy whisper my name. I look over to see that she's lying on her side, facing me. "Do you like him?"

I think about it for a long time, I barely know him. Yes, he was very nice to me when I met, and this rose and note was very kind of him as well. But, I don't really know how to feel about him.

Finally I answer her, quite honestly, "I don't know."

Lizzy blinks before saying, "Okay, Good Night," and turning over to go to sleep.

I lay on my back in my cot for a long time, staring at the ceiling and thinking. I can't fall asleep, there's just too much on my mind right now. I decide to see Cesar, so quietly I get out of bed and pull on my, no, Erik's cloak. I tiptoe out of the dormitories, the hallways backstage are silent and empty with the exception of a few drunk staff members mulling about or sleeping propped against the wall. They don't pay any attention to me as I make my way to the stables.

The stablehand is passed out in the corner when I reach the stables, which is perhaps to my benefit. Cesar pricks his ears as I approach his stall and enter it. He nickers softly and presses his nose to my chest. I pull out the rose the phantom had given me, and he sniffs at it curiously. "Look what he gave me," I say softly. He breaths out on it before looking up at me, were it any other rose or flower I'm sure he would have eaten it, but he must know that this particular one is rather special.

I lean against him, gently stroking the petals of the rose and running the ribbon through my fingers, thinking. I sigh, "You know Cesar, I hardly know him and yet, I think I might be in love with him." I continue to think about it, it's a strange sort of feeling I have about him. Perhaps I'm more curious and intrigued than in love, he's so mysterious. Deep in thought, I begin humming softly, which helps me relax a little bit. I just might be ready to go to sleep soon.

Suddenly I hear a voice, very faint and ghostlike, yet beautiful and pure like an angel. _"Wandering child, so lost, so helpless. Yearning for my, guidance." _

I look around, he's nowhere in sight. I suppose that part of the ballerinas' stories had been true. "Hello?" I call out softly, not wanting to rouse the drunk stablehand.

_"Child, it's I, your phantom."_ Yes, that's definitely him. _"Why do you dance? Your voice is beautiful,"_ he says, I wish he would just come out instead of talking to me from nowhere.

I smile at his question, how flattering! I shake my head though, "My voice is not so good," I tell him, it's average at best and far too soft.

Still, he replies, _"With time and patience dear child, I can teach you. You can replace La Carlotta as Prima Donna."_

To this I laugh, remembering what Lizzy had said earlier today about Carlotta loving an audience, "I'm not really that good with crowds, and uh, I just don't think I really want to be a star anyway," I tell him honestly. _  
_

Cesar's ears flatten and he seems to be looking around for the voice that is speaking to me. However since he can't find it, he must obviously think there's a threat. I place a hand reassuringly on his neck, "You're alright Cesar, easy boy."

Suddenly I hear him again, _"Sing." _What? Right here? Right now? He requests it once again, only the second time it sounds more like an order than a request and I stammer.

"What? What do you want me to sing?" I ask perhaps a little louder than I should have, feeling frightened by the man's sudden demand. I still can't see him either, which only adds to my uneasiness. Cesar paws the ground and I look out to see the stablehand blinking himself awake. Now I've done it! I hide behind Cesar and watch the man as he struggles to pull himself to his feet. Once he's standing, he teeters for a moment before managing to find his ground. He picks up a whip and walks down the row to a stall across and down a bit from Cesar's.

"You there, you stupid ninny! Ya woke me up you stupid cow!" he slurred, bringing the whip down on the poor horse within. He must have heard me and thought the noise came from down there. The horse he has wrongly pinned as the noisemaker is a very dainty looking little black mare with a star on her forehead. I think I recognize her, but when I manage to spot her name on the door of the stall I'm certain I know this horse. Petit Coeur!

She'd been one of my mother's favorite mares, despite her small size she had always foaled the most beautiful babies. Her foals were popular as carriage horses, because of their quiet nature, a trait given to them by their mother. To see the gentle mare treated this way infuriates me, and without even think I shout at the man from across the stables to get his attention off of her.

He turns at my voice, his bloodshot eyes falling directly onto Cesar's stall. His eyes are glazed and his face is red. I'm certain he's not entirely aware of what he's doing, which makes me incredibly frightened. I attempt to hide behind Cesar, but the man somehow manages to get around the angry black stallion and corners me in the stall. Cesar snorts, pawing angrily and attempting to bite the man.

The stablehand cracks his whip at Cesar and immediately I jump to the stallion's defense. The man throws me against the wall of the stall as though I'm only a ragdoll, and I hit the back of my head rather hard, which sends the world spinning. This is it then, just like Lizzy said, it's just going to happen and there's nothing to be done about it. I wait for him to grab me, to rip my dress off and to violate me, but it never happens.

I look up to see what looks like a shadow swoop in and attack the stablehand, dragging him out into the barn isle and out of sight. I close my eyes for a moment, listening to the struggle before the stable falls silent. I open my eyes when I feel Cesar breathing my face, he is standing in front of me, his head lowered and his ears pricked as he examines me. I reach up and rub his face, smiling tiredly, "Good boy Cesar," I tell him softly.

He presses his nose into my hair and I chuckle, which hurts my head and is a mistake, but I can't help it, "I know I got soft, don't rub it in!" I tell him. There was once a time when I could fall off a horse onto my head and get right back up, I don't know what happened but obviously I can't do that anymore.

Suddenly the shadow enters the stall, and I recognize him as Erik. He pushes Cesar aside before kneeling before me, "Are you alright?" he asks me. I nod, though my head is pounding and aching terribly. He stands and offers his hand, and I take it, allowing him to pull me to my feet. The room is spinning and I put my hand on Cesar's side to support myself for a moment. Erik doesn't leave either, just waits until I'm ready to move. I hug Cesar and kiss him on the nose, saying goodnight before allowing the phantom to help me out of the stall and into the opera house.

We walk slowly, and I feel bad because this is the second time I've been pathetic in his presence and he's had to wait for me to get my act together. Just like before he grows impatient and picks me up, carrying me down the endless corridors. "Do you still want me to sing for you?" I ask him.

"Yes," he replies quietly.

I nestle my head against his chest, listening to his steady heart beat is beginning to lull me to sleep, finally. "Is Cesar alright?" I ask, since I didn't really get a good chance to look at him for myself.

"Yes," he answers again.

"Are you alright?" I ask, trying my hardest to stay awake but it's very difficult. I fall asleep before I can hear his answer, but it's alright. I trust him to get me to my bed safely, and I rest easily knowing that someone is watching over me in this place where just about anything is possible, both good and bad.


	5. Accident

"THE STABLEHAND IS DEAD" being screeched by several of the young ballerinas is what brings me back to the real world. I have a splitting headache from last night's events and I wish that those girls would just gossip a little quieter about the dead stablehand. Wait a moment, dead?

I shoot up and look at those girls, "Dead?" I ask, just to make sure I heard correctly. I expect most of the dancers to be awake and talking, but most of the older dancers are still in bed getting over their hangovers. I suppose I shouldn't be totally surprised.

Lizzy, who is sitting on her bed braiding her hair, nods, "Yes, they found him in the hay mow this morning. Gabriella are you feeling alright this morning? You look a little pale."

I manage to nod somehow, though I feel a bit dazed. "I'm just fine Lizzy, a little startled that's all."

She doesn't look exactly convinced, but she shrugs as she finishes with her hair and directs her full attention to me. "Well we get the day off today, so you want to go shopping with me?"

"Oh, um, I don't really think I have any money." I say, mostly because my head is throbbing and I don't know if I want to go outside.

Lizzy isn't taking any of it though, she moves over to sit on my bed, nudging my leg, "You've got to have something! You've been getting your monthly pay and besides, weren't you given some money for dealing with that horse the other day?" I wish she'd forgotten about that, but she's right, I did get paid for helping with the horses.

One of the opera drivers teasingly called me the 'horse whisperer' for what I did the other day. One of the carriage horses was being particularly nasty about taking the harness while I was visiting Cesar. I went over to assist, and after running my hands over the horse I discovered quite a bit of heat coming from his back, likely he tore or strained something though I'm no veterinarian. I massaged it for several minutes and he took the harness willingly after that. It was only a temporary fix however, and despite telling the driver that he has not allowed the horse to rest. I worry about the treatment of the opera horses now, especially Cesar.

Sighing, I swing my legs over the side of my bed and stand up to get ready for the day, "I suppose you're right," I finally say, sighing. Lizzy jumps up and beams, but before she can say anything I ask her to fetch me an apple for breakfast while I get ready. She dashes out of the room excitedly, and I take my time getting ready. By the time she returns my headache has only mildly subsided, but at least it's bearable. I feel even better after eating the apple and having a drink of water.

Before heading out of the dormitories, I grabbed Erik's cloak off my bedpost and put it on. I'm amazed after last night that it's still here, I thought for sure he would have taken it back! Lizzy gives me a funny look as we head down the spiral staircase, "Isn't that a man's cloak?" she asks.

I shrug, "It's all I have," I tell her, it is the truth.

"Well maybe today we can get you a more fashionable one," she says cheerfully.

As we near the door I suddenly stop, "Lizzy, actually, would you mind if we went to the stables and fetched my horse?"

Once again she gives me a strange look, but doesn't hesitate to give her consent. Together we walk to the stables, where several policemen are gathered. They look up at us sharply as we enter and I meekly apologize for intruding before tacking Cesar quickly. He follows me out eagerly, and I swing up onto his back once we're out onto the streets. Lizzy looks up at me, almost sadly and I roll my eyes before offering my hand, "Come on then," I say.

Her eyes light up as she grabs my hand and allows me to pull her onto Cesar's back behind me. He shifts under the added weight, however he settles almost instantly and responds to me carefully and mindfully. Together we ride down the street towards the shops. Lizzy tells me where to go and I guide Cesar in the proper direction with an experienced hand. He isn't as energetic as he usually is, which even though he seems to be taking extra care, it still worries me a bit. Normally when I ask him to go he responds instantly, however now he responds to cues a bit sluggishly and I feel as though I have to nudge and squeeze my legs against his sides harder for him to even feel me. I'm not sure what they're making him do, but I don't like it one bit.

Our first stop is a clothing store, where Lizzy helps me purchase a new cloak that's more fashionable. It's red, and though I quite like it I think I prefer Erik's to it. After that store we ride down several streets to a bakery Lizzy insists has the best pastries, and I have to say I agree with her. We take our treats to a nearby park, sitting down on a bench to nibble at our treats. I hold Cesar's reins loosely, allowing him to walk a short distance away to graze.

"He's very pretty," Lizzy says, polishing her fingers off.

I smile fondly at the black stallion, "He is the handsomest stallion in all of Paris, and certainly the most well behaved gentleman I know," I reply.

She watches him for a brief moment before looking at me, "I think we need to do something more exciting today," she announces.

Raising an eyebrow and laughing lightly, I ask her, "And what might that be?"

"I think today we need to test the theory on the drunkards on the swinging walkways! We're going to go up there and see just how tipsy they really are. Though mostly I'm just curious, I've always wanted to go up there just to see what the view is like."

I must confess that I share her curiosity, and I readily nod in agreement before finishing my pastry and standing up. "Well what are we doing here then? Let's go investigate!" I tell her. She leaps up and practically vaults onto Cesar's back. I throw the reins over his head and pull myself up a little slower, but with no less enthusiasm. I tell her to hang on tightly as I send Cesar galloping back to the opera house.

When we return the police are gone, so I instruct Lizzy to take my new cloak up to the dormitories while I untack Cesar. She bounds off in a ball of energy to do it, and I use the time to not only untack and rub down Cesar, but to check him for sores and heat. He seems to be unscathed, at least on the outside, at least for now. I rub his nose and hug him around the neck before heading off to find Lizzy. I bump into her in one of the corridors and she is smiling ear to ear, mischief gleaming in her blue eyes.

As we made our way to the stage area, I suddenly begin having second thoughts. Perhaps it would be better to stay on the ground, but Lizzy seems bound and determined so I stay quiet as she pulls me along by the arm. When we reach the stage I finally tug on her sleeve, "Are you sure Madame Giry will be all right with this?" I ask her.

She bobs her head and rolls her eyes at me, "We'll only be up there a moment! It'll be fine!" she assures me. I feel very uncertain now about this, but I take her word for it. She hasn't really been wrong about anything since I've been here. Together we climb up to where the swinging walkways are. It looks incredibly unsafe, and I wonder now even more how those drunkards don't fall off of them.

"I have an idea! Let's see if we can drop something on the other ballerinas when they walk under us backstage!" Lizzy says, lowering her voice. Bad idea, in my mind it sounds like an awful idea. We're going to get in a lot of trouble, but before I can say anything Lizzy is already making her way across one of the walkways. I follow her anxiously.

We stop halfway and look down, but I can only look down for a moment before I get scared and crouch down, clinging to the rope railing for dear life. Lizzy laughs at me, "Oh Gabriella don't be such a ninny! We're fine! Look!" She begins swinging the walkway and I cry out for her to stop. She clasps a hand over my mouth and hushes me, "Shh! We don't want to get caught! You'll alert them if you do that!"

"Then don't do that again!" I whisper back.

"Ok fine. Come on, I think we'll have a better chance from that walkway over there."

We cross the rest of the way over the walkway and walk over to a different walkway. Something about this one is much different about the other one, it doesn't look like it's secure. The rope railing is incredibly slack, but Lizzy doesn't seem to take any notice. Fearlessly she strides out a few steps. I don't follow her immediately this time, and instead hiss for her to come back.

She turns as though she's about to tell me to hurry up, but before the words can leave her mouth the walkway lurches under her feet, and she drops down, clinging to the boards under her feet.

"Lizzy!" I gasp. The mischievous look in her eyes is gone now, replaced by fear and she looks at me desperately for help. "Just come back this way," I encourage her, holding my hand out, "Nice and slowly, you can do it."

Lizzy hesitantly moves, and I hear something snap as the walkway swings dangerously. She freezes in place, clinging to the ropes for dear life, "I can't! I'm scared!" she confesses.

I suppose I'll have to try and be brave, and pull her to safety. I unclasp Erik's cloak from my shoulders, letting it fall to the floor. I don't want it to weigh me down. Taking a deep breath to collect myself, I lean out as far as I can without stepping on the walkway, reaching towards Lizzy. She reaches towards me, but she's too far away. I swallow nervously, I'm most certainly going to have to risk my neck by stepping out onto the walkway to get her.

One step, is all it takes. I take one step, and I don't even put my full weight down when something snaps loudly and the entire walkway plummets to the stage floor. Lizzy and I both scream in fear and panic, and I certainly would have gone down with her if something, or I should say, someone, hadn't grabbed me by the back of the collar and pulled me to safety. In any other case, I would have turned to thank them for saving me, however my only concern is Lizzy. So I grab my cloak and make a mad dash for the stairs, racing down them to the stage floor where a crowd is beginning to gather at hearing the loud crash and the screaming.

Lizzy is lying in a heap, pale and unmoving. I fall to my knees beside her and shake her shoulder franticly. "Please don't be dead Lizzy! We were so foolish, it shouldn't have happened!" I say, as though that will change things. Tears beginning to blur my vision and I know I'm just babbling hystarically but I can't help myself.

Madame Giry arrives and looks both angry and incredibly worried. "What happened?" she demands, looking down at me.

"I'm sorry! I knew better, I did! But, we... I was curious about the walkways so we went up there and then the walkway just..." I don't finish as I collapse into a sobbing mess on the stage floor. I don't think I need to finish my statement anyway, it's rather obvious how it ended. Madame Giry grabs me by the arm and hauls me to my feet, dragging me away from Lizzy. I kick, scream, fight, and try to break away from her as best I can but she holds firm.

The ballerinas that had followed her onto the stage or wandered on after hearing the sound break into two groups then. One group stays with the stagehands as they fuss over Lizzy, while the other group escorts me back to the dormitories to calm me down. They rub my back, run their hands through my hair, speak soothingly to me, offer water and wine, anything they can think of to calm me down. I am very grateful for their comfort and support, for though many of them are alcoholics and whores, they are now my family. We take care of each other, if one is in need the entire group is there to help them. I couldn't ask for better, but at the moment I just want Lizzy to come in and declare she's perfectly fine and was just kidding.

After what feels like an eternity, I finally manage to catch my breath and pull myself together. Things quiet down after that, and the ballerinas give me some personal space. My head is throbbing again, and I decide that the best thing would be to fall asleep. Madame Giry however, has other plans. She comes into the dormitories and pulls me out, leading me down to her room and locking the door behind us when we enter.

She is harsh, but only in a worried mother sort of way. I sit and take everything she dishes out to me, since I do deserve it. "Everything you did today was incredibly dangerous," she reprimands, towards the end of her tirade.

I bow my head shamefully, "I know," I murmur softly. I am truly sorry, and I think Madame Giry knows that. Her eyes soften and she places a hand on the top of my head, smoothing down my hair for a brief moment before stopping.

"You will not be permitted to leave this opera house for quite some time. I don't expect anymore trouble from you. Do you understand?"

I bob my head and she dismisses me, ushering me back to the dormitories. Most of the ballerinas are either sleeping, out for the night, or silently getting ready for one of those two options. I change into my nightgown and lie in my bed, to attempt to fall asleep. Lizzy never returns, I wait a long time but she never comes back. I can't help but look over at her bed every so often as though one of these times I'll look over there and she'll be sitting there. I know it won't happen though, and the thought of where she might be now terrifies me.

Deciding I'm not ready to go to sleep just yet, I grab Erik's cloak for what feels like the millionth time today and head up endless stairs to the rooftop. I have a lot of things to think about, and I need someplace quiet to do it. Normally I would go to Cesar, however I don't think even he can help me right now. Besides, with those stablehands down there I'm a little afraid to venture there by myself again.

When I arrive at the rooftop, I'm met by a gust of cold wind and a cloudy sky. It's fine, I guess, I'm not really here to look at the stars anyway. I make my way over to one of the two pegasus statues, and climb up onto its back. I lie on my back and gaze at the sky, even though it's dark and there's nothing to look at. I like these statues, I've liked them since the first time Lizzy showed them to me. I always wanted to climb on them but never had the courage to until tonight.

As I lay thinking about Lizzy and what happened today, I hear _him_ calling out for me. Of course he would follow me up here, why couldn't he just leave me alone? He's always following me, like a shadow, like the ghost everyone thinks he is. He's haunting me, he won't leave me alone even though right now I want nothing more than to be alone.

_"Will you sing for me tonight?"_ he asks, and I can't help but feel very angry at the request. He knows what happened today, in fact were it not for him I'd probably be where ever Lizzy is now! Does he expect me to just move on in only a few hours after losing my best friend? Possibly forever? I sit up and look around, he's nowhere in sight just like usual. I slide off the statue and walk out into the open, as though that will help me find where he's hiding. It doesn't.

Crossing my arms and speaking nowhere in particular, I declare, "No! I am not singing for you tonight, or tomorrow night, or any night after that!" My voice trembles, despite how firm I'm trying to be. My phantom did kill someone last night, I can't forget that either even though he seems to have. I think I have a right to be a little afraid.

His voice comes again, so loud and intense I jump, _"Sing for me!"_

Even though I'm intimidated, I can't let that get to me. I'm going to remain strong. "If you want someone to sing for you so badly why don't you ask La Carlotta? I'm sure she'd love to sing for you! I'm not a singer! I'm a dancer! A dancer dances! If you can't get that through your head then just leave me alone! Go back under your opera house and never speak or show yourself to me again!" With each word I feel myself falling apart more and more until I'm on the ground sobbing by my last words.

Despite the cold I tear his cloak off my shoulders and throw it on the ground in a heap, to emphasis my point. The air grows silent following my angry words, broken only by my sharp gasps as I cry and the bitter wind that continues to batter me. I don't care though, I just don't care. I want Lizzy back! But I'm not just crying for Lizzy, I'm crying for Cesar, and for my parents. I never should have come here, perhaps I've made a horrible mistake. But I don't know! Where would I be now if I hadn't come here? I'm so conflicted, and confused.

It takes some time to gather myself together, and when I do I hoist myself to my feet and make to pick up the cloak, only to find it missing. Gone. He must have picked it up, he must have taken my words to heart! If I could take those words back now I would, for this opera ghost has been so helpful and kind to me! He's listened to me, protected me from the shadows, encouraged me through that letter and the beautiful rose he gave me a few nights ago after my very first performance.

"Erik!" I call out, there's no way of knowing if he hears me or if he's already long gone, but I try anyway. "Erik please, I'm sorry! I didn't mean it! I was angry!" There is no response, and I come to the conclusion that he has left me and now I am all alone in this big opera house. I'm too late, but lately it feels as though I'm always too late.


	6. Friends?

**For anyone following this from the original Cesar story, the plot is going to change drastically from this moment on. I hope everyone's enjoying it so far, and don't forget to leave me a lovely review! Thanks for reading everybody!**

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It's been two months since that night, and Lizzy still hasn't returned. In that time I haven't spoken to anyone, so whether Lizzy is dead or simply out on an injury, I wouldn't know. Until Lizzy returns she might as well be dead, and the worst feeling in the world is knowing it's my fault.

Every day is the same for the most part. I get up in the morning, usually before everyone else, and have an apple for breakfast before changing into my dancing costume for the day. When it's simply a practice day it's the plain white one that all the ballerinas wear, when we're rehearsing for an opera or ballet we wear the costume for the show if it's finished. So I change and go to the stage to stretch, warm up, and practice alone. I really need the extra time before everyone else comes, since I'm still working on techniques and working to build up muscles in my legs.

When rehearsal starts I dance and sing with everyone, I've made leaps and bounds and have made it to the second row of dancers. At the last ballet we did about a week ago I had a minor solo part with three other young dancers. I'm very proud of myself for the work I've done, by next season I might even be in the front row of dancers, but only if I continue to work as hard as I have been. Once rehearsal is over I change into regular clothing, usually a simple white blouse and a skirt, and I let my hair down from its ballet bun.

After saving Cesar from a beating or labor unfit for him, I take him for a short ride. Most days I take him to the park and sit with him on the grass. I sit on the grass and watch the world go by while Cesar grazes contently nearby. Sometimes he'll be in a playful mood, and he'll nudge me with his nose or nibble at my hair. I'll kiss his nose on those occasions and tell him simply how wonderful he is. Then we'll have to return to the opera house as it grows dark, and I have to part with him. I always hug his neck and tell him I love him, for I don't know if one time I'll leave him and never have the chance to see him again.

Dinner the entire cast usually eats together, I sit away from everyone else and eat quietly minding my own business. They've all come up with a game now, in an attempt to get me to talk. They'll shout profanity at me, poke, prod, kick, trip, flick me in the back of the head as they walk past, anything they can think of in an attempt to get a sound out of me. Even La Carlotta tried it once, striding up to me and telling me what a wretched little worm I was and how I was unfit to be a member of the ballet corps. I merely blinked up at her before going back to eating and she marched off in a huff. Piangi offered me a sympathetic look before following pitifully behind her. I feel bad for him, he seems like a decent man but Carlotta treats him like some kind of servant, or a dog. But he loves her, so what is there to say?

After dinner I'll go up to the roof and sit for a while, sometimes on the pegasus statues, sometimes on the roof ledge, sometimes I just lie flat on my back in the middle of the roof and stare at the sky. I always call out for the phantom, but he never answers me. It always hurts when he doesn't, even though I've come to expect no answer now. When I grow tired I return to the dormitories and go to sleep, then the next day I start the cycle all over again.

But tonight is different, tonight I don't get a chance to go up to the rooftop. There's a new ballerina here today, a little girl named Christine who is only 7 years old. Meg Giry, Madame Giry's daughter, brings her into the dormitories after dinner. The two of them already seem like they will be good friends, and it makes me miss Lizzy terribly. Madame Giry requested we all stay in tonight so that the new girl might be introduced to everyone, so I lounge in my cot with a book and only half pay attention to the fuss. They sit her down on a bed and surround her, chatting animatedly with her about the opera house and telling her their names.

She is very quiet and timid, not unlike me when I first arrived here. She must have noticed me sitting by myself, for I hear her very quietly ask one of the older ballerinas, "Who's that over there?"

The ballerina and I make brief eye contact before she turns to little Christine and says, "Oh, that's just Gabriella. Don't pay too much mind to her, she never speaks." I can feel everyone's eyes on me, and the rebellious side of me wants to prove that other girl wrong.

I glance up at them, before looking down at my book. I almost can't find my voice at first, but after a brief moment of silence I manage a soft, "Hello." Everyone in the room gasps audibly the moment the word leaves my mouth. Christine seems a little confused by their shock and surprise, if only she knew just how long it's been since I said so simple a word.

"Say something else!" one of the younger girls squeaks.

I close my book with a snap and stand up, pushing through the group, "I'm going out!"

I have introduced myself, so I don't care what Madame Giry said. I go to the stables instead of the roof, wrapping my arms around Cesar's neck and burying my face in his velvety black coat and knotting my fingers in his long silky mane. I speak quietly to him as I pull out a brush and begin grooming him, and to get everything off my chest feels as though I've taken the weight of the world off of my shoulders. He stands as still as the statues on the roof as I make my way across his coat, I notice a new mark near his hock and sigh sadly. I want to save Cesar from the abuse he's going through here, but I'm not sure how to. When I'm done I kiss him on the nose and rub his forehead before bidding him goodnight.

On my way back to the dormitories, I decide to take a detour since I'm not quite ready to go to sleep. I'm passing by the chapel when I hear his familiar voice, and freeze in my tracks. Who has he attached himself to now I wonder? Curiosity getting the best of me, I tiptoe down to the chapel and peak inside. Christine is standing before a lit candle, her hands in the praying position. She's looking up at the ceiling in wonder, answering the voice calling out to her. I'm not sure why, but I decide to intrude on the moment. I walk right up to Christine, ignoring Erik even though I know he's watching somewhere from the shadows.

"Christine, it's going to be past curfew soon. You wouldn't want to get in trouble on your first night here would you?" I ask her. She shakes her head and I hold out my hand to her, "Come on, I'll take you." She doesn't hesitate as she grasps my hand and follows me out of the room. We walk slowly, since I'm still in no rush to get back to the dormitories.

"Did you hear the angel?" Christine asks very suddenly. Is that what she thought he was? An angel? Well, considering his voice it's really not that hard to come to such a conclusion I suppose. And she is only a child after all.

I nod, "I did, but I won't tell anyone."

She nods, "My father died, he said he'd send the angel of music to me," she confesses, sniffling. She reaches a chubby little hand to wipe away her tears, and I can see now that the light is better that she was likely crying quite a bit in the chapel before the opera ghost began speaking to her.

There is was, the reason she was here, orphaned at 7. I stop and kneel down before her, taking both her hands and getting her to meet my gaze, "I know how you feel. My parents have both died as well, which is why I'm a dancer here."

"Is that why you can hear the angel too?" she asks me innocently.

I think for a moment before nodding to her, "But we have to keep the angel a secret, all right? Don't tell anyone else about him."

"I won't tell. Is he going to make things better?"

"He'll make things much better," I tell her. I feel a little guilty for saying that, for I'm not sure it's true. He certainly didn't make anything better for me. However my words seem to be exactly what she needed to hear, for she smiles at me. I stand and together we walk the rest of the way to the dormitories.

When we return Christine goes over to her bed and begins talking with Meg, who is only half awake at the moment. Meanwhile, I decide to try another approach with the opera ghost. It seemed to work for him, and for the managers as well. I wrote him a note, a very simple one. When I finish I see that Christine has fallen asleep, so I tiptoe over to her bed quietly and place the note on the floor nearby. I know he'll be checking on her, he'll see it addressed to him and will hopefully open it. I go to sleep after that, feeling more hopeful than I have in weeks.

The next day I awaken like usual, before everyone else, to find the note near Christine gone and a small envelope beside mine addressed to me. I pick it up carefully and open it, only it blank. How very strange, but I haven't time to ponder it. Today is the dress rehearsal for my first big ballet, Giselle. I change quickly, pull on my pointe shoes, and head out onto the stage.

All day I think about that note, and what it could possibly mean. Madame Giry has to correct me several times, and I mumble an apology before trying to focus on the task at hand. She raises an eyebrow when I speak, but doesn't comment on it. All day I dance, and Madame Giry even keeps me an extra hour afterwards to work with me some more since I was so distracted. The moment I'm free I dash to the dormitories, change quicker than I ever have, and skip dinner entirely in favor of going up to the roof to think.

The stars are bright tonight, and I walk over to the edge of the roof and sit down, dangling my legs over the edge and looking at the view of Paris down below. Despite how late it is, it seems so alive with the glittering of the street lights and the steady sound of horses' hooves against the cobblestone. The crescent moon above isn't quite enough to fully bathe the city in moonlight, but the little light it offers still illuminates the city of romance in a beautiful way.

"I know you're here," I say aloud suddenly, because I know he's watching. After thinking about that blank note I came to the conclusion that it meant he was watching. "I'm sorry for before, I didn't mean it. I was angry." He doesn't reply, and I'm met only with silence. Still, I continue, "Are you here to watch the stars?"

_"Are you?"_

I look down at my hands, "Yes, come out and join me."

Nothing happens for a moment, and I almost don't think he'll accept my offer, when suddenly I catch him moving up behind me out of the corner of my eye. I make sure not to make any sudden movements or to tense up as he sits beside me on the right, also sitting and allowing his long legs to hang over the ledge. I feel very vulnerable suddenly, but I keep my hands in my lap and keep my gaze outward, to the stars. He's so much taller and larger than I am, I only come up to about his shoulder, which adds to his intimidation factor. But I'm glad he's out in the open at last.

Side by side we sit in silence and look up at the stars. I decide to break the ice after a moment, "Did you know there were so many stars in the sky?"

"Yes"

I blush, feeling slightly embarrassed at my dumb question, "Oh uh, I did too."

"I know you do, you look at them every night."

"So you were watching!"

"Always."

"Then why didn't you answer me?" I ask. He doesn't answer. Silence reigns on once again but I make sure it's short lived, "Why do you hide? Not a fan of crowds?"

He doesn't answer, I sigh, "Me neither. It's why I come up here, it's lonely but sometimes I just need to be away from everyone to think for myself. Besides, there's no one worth talking to, and it's peaceful up here."

I know he's looking down at me, watching me. I glance over at him and offer him a small smile before looking back at the sky, "You know, not having any friends isn't any fun. Maybe, we could be friends?"

"Friends?" he asks, he sounds incredibly caught off guard and I look back at him. He's staring at me, wide eyed.

I shrug, "Yeah, why not? I'm lonely and have no friends, and you seem to be the same as me. If I've learned anything these past two months it's that keeping things bottled up isn't good for you. It doesn't feel good. You can talk to me, and I can talk to you, and we won't tell anyone because there isn't anyone to tell?"

He once again lapses into silence, looking away from me and at the sky. I look up at the sky too, but this time I don't say anything else. Even though it probably should have been an uncomfortable silence, for me it isn't. All the fear and anxiety I felt before has gone away, and sitting next to this man I feel as though I can conquer just about anything.

Just when I don't think he's going to say another word for the rest of the night, he suddenly says something that surprises me greatly, "I'd like that."

"You would?" I ask, stunned.

He looks over at me, "Yes, I've never had a friend before. I would like to have one."

I smile up at him, "Ok, Erik. We're friends then, let's shake on it," I say, holding out my hand to him. He stares at it, before tentatively taking it and shaking it. Erik seems surprised he didn't burn me or hurt me when he touched me, the visible side of his face seems indifferent but I can see it in his eyes. I feel a little bad, what happened to this man that he would think that? And why does he feel the need to cover half of his face with a mask?

Once again we sit in silence, looking up at the stars. "Gabriella," he asks hesitantly after a moment.

"Yes Erik?"

"Do you, know any constellations?"

I shake my head, "No, I tried once, but the constellations don't look like what they're supposed to represent to me. I like making my own better, have you ever tried it?"

"No."

"Oh," I say, pausing for a moment in thought before looking up at him, "Do you want to make one now?"

"A constellation?"

I nod, "Yeah."

"That sounds childish," he tells me.

Perhaps some girls would have been offended by that, I laugh at him, "Sometimes you just need to do childish things."

He looks confused, which causes me to giggle more, "Why?" he asks.

I shrug, "You just do. I don't know, it makes you feel better. Here, look up at the sky and try to make a constellation. And no cheating, you can't make one that you read about in a book! It has to be your own!"

"I'm hurt you would accuse me of cheating he says," he says, a look in his direction shows that despite his words he's smiling a little.

The two of us look up at the sky, and I search the stars for any shape that looks like something. The first one I spot is near the moon, and I point it out to him, "Look, that's an elephant!"

"What? Where? I don't see it."

I point up at the group of stars, outlining the shape of the elephant I could see, "No look, there's the trunk, and there's it's big ear right there," I explain to him.

His visible eyebrow furrows, "I don't see that at all. It looks like a distorted teapot to me," he replies.

"Well it's an elephant,"

He smirks, "Well if that's an elephant, then that group of stars over there is a carousel!"

A what? "What's that?"

Erik shrugs, "I'm not sure actually, I've never seen one in person. I read about it in a book, you find them in America mostly, I believe." He outlines the shape of a horse, with a brass rod going through it, I'm a little confused.

"What does it do? Did your book tell you that?"

"I'm afraid not."

We fall silent again, both of us staring up at each other's constellations. I'm reminded of Lizzy, she would have liked to make constellations with us too. Tears begin to blue my vision and I wipe them away quickly, but Erik has already seen them. "Have I upset you?" he asks, sounding genuinely worried.

Quickly I shake my head, "No! You haven't upset me at all! I've enjoyed our conversation. It's just, I was thinking about Lizzy and how she would have liked doing this, that's all. What happened to her was all my fault!"

He shakes his head, "Nonsense, I watched the entire thing unfold. She went out there on her own accord," he says, trying to comfort me.

I know he's right, but I should have stopped her! I begin crying and he swings his legs back onto the roof, standing up. For a moment I think he will leave me, but he holds a gloved hand out to me. I take it graciously and allow him to pull me back onto the roof with him. He hands me a handkerchief, and stands patiently as I try to calm myself down.

When I've finished crying, I hand him the handkerchief and look up at him apologetic, "I've ruined your evening, I'm sorry."

Erik shakes his head, "You've hardly ruined my evening," he replies, and a look at his face shows that he's being genuine.

I thank him quietly before turning and heading for the door. Before I leave though I turn back to look at him, "You'll be here tomorrow?"

He pauses for a moment before nodding, "Yes."

"Same place? Same time?"

"Yes."

I smile at him, "Ok. Goodnight Erik."

"Goodnight Gabriella."

With that, I go into the opera house. I was out talking with the phantom much longer than I thought, for when I get down there the lights are all out and everyone is sound asleep. Quietly I change into my nightgown and crawl into bed, feeling far more optimistic about things. Perhaps I didn't lie to Christine, perhaps her angel can make things better after all.


	7. Pas De Deux

**A/N: Hello. Couple things I'm gonna put in here. So first of all, I've moved this story into a different section. Why? Because it is no longer centered entirely around the movie, it's kinda a weird hybrid now. The only thing holding true from the movie is some of the details (Like Christine coming to the Opera House when she was 7 and of course Cesar the black stallion) and the sets (The Phantoms lair, the roof setup, the dormitories, ect.). Otherwise, Ramin Karimloo is my Phantom, the costumes would be from the stage production, and some of Erik's backstory and stuff is from the various novels. (By the way, if anyone has any comments on how I'm writing Erik's character do feel free to review or pm me, I struggle with him sometimes). **

**Part two of my little note is that the 'pas de duex' in this chapter is inspired by Heaven's ballet from Carousel, Gabriella's dress is also inspired by the costume Louise wears for that. Of course there's no kissing or rolling around in this version but the overall dance I really love. There's something dark about it, and a lot of it has to do with the guy's control on the girl. While Erik isn't necessarily abusive, he is very controlling, so I could see the Phantom participating in that ballet. Gabriella also isn't a pushover. My version is a bit more playful than the original, but I don't know, I kinda hope that underlying tone comes through. **

**PLEASE review. I feel bad begging for reviews but I really need the critique on this. Thank you everybody so much for reading!**

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It's June, and the opera season is currently over. That means everyone is getting a break not only from having an audience, but from having to deal with La Carlotta. With the season over, she and Piangi have gone back to Italy, at least that's where Piangi told me they were going when I asked him. Honestly with Carlotta they could be anywhere in Europe.

The rest of us are still working, Monsieur Reyer seems to use the season downtime to fix orchestra problems, reshuffle positions, and to teach new pieces of music, while Madame Giry does the same for the ballet corps. The people who make the props, costumes, backdrops, and scenery have already started work for the upcoming season productions. I must say I have enjoyed the more relaxed pace of ballet practice lately, since there are are no shows coming up we're spending all our time working on techniques and routines rather than constantly rehearsing and stressing over upcoming shows. The days are also shorter, meaning more time to go out into the city or in my case, see Cesar.

Lizzy still has not returned, otherwise I would go into the city with her. Instead I often go out alone, with Cesar. I ride him to the park in the afternoon, bringing with me a picnic basket with bread and cheese, a bottle of wine, a blanket, and Cesar's halter. When we arrive I'll take him under the same tree, untack him and replace his bridle with a halter. Then he'll graze nearby while I sit on my blanket in the shade and enjoy the Parisian air. Sometimes other ballerinas will join me, they all know where I go so sometimes on a nice day they'll come sit for a while, and people watch. I like people watching too, but listening to the comments of the older girls is what really makes it hilariously enjoyable.

When it begins to grow dark out, I pack everything up, and ride Cesar back to the stables. He is always reluctant to return, and often I have to pull pretty hard in order to get him into his stall. I don't know what they do to him, but I wish they'd stop. It hurts to see my horse slowly being ruined, but it's not like there's anyone I can talk to about it. Except Erik of course, Erik seems to understand my concern for Cesar.

Erik and I see each other every night on the rooftop, I go up there once almost everyone has gone to bed. No one has caught me yet, not that I'm worried about being caught anyway. Seeing the opera ghost himself is worth whatever trouble I might get into for being out after curfew.

Usually we just sit around and talk, other times he brings his violin with him and serenades me with the most beautiful music I've ever heard. He still asks me to sing on occasion, but I've denied him every time. Instead, I dance to his music, and he corrects me when I do something wrong. My dancing has improved some under Erik's guidance, but I think I prefer just listening to his music more than dancing to it. I prefer simply talking to him over that. He tells the most fascinating stories about his travels around the world. I could listen to him talk about Persia all night.

Speaking of stories, tonight I'm a little late as I head up to the roof because one of those obnoxious stagehands was in the dormitories telling stories about the opera ghost to scare the little ones. Funnily enough, Christine looked rather scared by the stories. That's strange considering she's been going down to speak to her angel of music every Sunday evening since she came here. Perhaps one day she'll realize that the opera ghost and the angel of music are one and the same, but for the time being she believes them to be two very different entities. It's probably for the best anyway.

As I step out onto the roof, I notice Erik isn't wearing a jacket or a cravat, just his shirt and waistcoat. It's been rather hot lately so I understand, I myself am not really in proper attire but I know Erik wouldn't try anything. I'm wearing a pink dress that falls halfway down my calves, the skirt is very loose and flowy, and doesn't need a bustle. I'm not wearing stockings, or shoes, and secretly I'm not wearing a corset either but my waist is small enough that I hope Erik won't notice or mind. He doesn't like it when I'm not proper, sometimes I come up in jut my nightgown and he has trouble looking at me on those occasions. I'm still wearing a camisole and drawers under this dress, so it's not like I'm completely indecent, I think.

He doesn't bother saying hello, and instead turns and very bluntly asks, "Aren't you scared of me? After what that stagehand said about me taking money from girls and...," he trails off at this point, because the stagehand happened to tell us about how the opera ghost supposedly raped girls who were wandering the opera house alone after curfew. I know he could never bring himself to say such a thing, which only proves just how untrue it is. I'm almost amused by that fact.

"I'm not scared," I tell him honestly, walking over and standing beside him, looking out over Paris. The only horror story about Erik that is true is that he kills, but I'm not afraid even of that. I know Erik has killed people, but they were all terrible people who deserved it like that stagehand he saved me from! He'd never hurt me or anyone else unless they really deserved it.

Erik hums as he ponders my answer before shrugging. I roll my eyes at him, "So I guess you heard everything downstairs so I don't have to tell you why I was late," I say.

"I wondered what kept you was all. I'm honestly a little disappointed, usually they tell better. They must not have had enough alcohol tonight," he says, smirking.

I laugh, "You mean like the one about how whenever you're angry the dressing room floor runs with blood?" I ask.

His eyes light up and his smile broadens like a little boy, "You know that's my favorite one! It's like something out of a gothic novel. Perhaps someone will take the time to publish that story someday."

"And these stories don't bother you at all?"

He shakes his head, "I can hardly waste my time being bothered by fabrications now can I? Besides, they tell stories of a ghost, and I am no ghost. Therefore, the stories they tell are not even about me!" His reasoning makes sense, but I'm not entirely convinced. If I were him the stories would hurt me a great deal. Erik's a person, and perhaps I'm the only person in the world who knows. Everyone else things he's a ghost, or an angel, or something not human. That's not really fair to Erik, but if he says he's not worried about it then I suppose I shouldn't be either.

His voice takes me out of that train of thought, "I saw you walking past the orchestra today during their rehearsal, from your face obviously you feel the same about the second french horn player as I do," he says, changing the subject to something lighter.

I roll my eyes and groan, "He was so out of tune today! If Monsieur Reyer lets him play like that during the opera season I don't know what I'll do! And the timpani player was way off beat I can't fathom how I'll survive doing a ballet with him, it's so difficult to dance when the person that's supposed to be keeping the beat is half a beat late!" I reply.

He chuckles at this, "I'll keep that in mind when I write my complaints to the manager at the end of the week. There are a few chorus members I wouldn't mind seeing shuffled around as well. You should be dancing front row now," he tells me.

"No, I shouldn't, I've only been dancing a year! These other girls have been here way longer!" I say, defending the other ballerinas. Besides, I truly don't think I'm ready to be front and center. My dancing has progressed very quickly, and I'm quite good, but I'm not great just yet.

Erik sits down at the base of one of the pegasus statues, looking up at me. His mask glows in the moonlight and I still wonder what he's hiding behind it. Perhaps one day he'll feel comfortable to show me himself. I'm not going to ask him about it because I feel as though that would be terribly rude of me. Taking it off myself would be even more so, perish the thought!

"You have surpassed them in that year! The only critique I have of your dancing is that you are still too stiff," he says, looking thoughtful.

Stiff? "What do you mean by stiff? I'm not stiff!"

"My dear, you are stiff. You don't let yourself simply move to the music, you're too focused on doing everything correctly, it's like watching a machine dance. You perform nearly every movement perfectly, and yet there is no flow, no grace, and certainly no feeling behind it. You need to relax."

I put my hands on my hips, "Well I suppose you can do better!" I say, I only mean it as a joke but he stands up, rolling up his shirt sleeves.

"I certainly can!" he announces.

"But you don't have any training do you?"

"No, but I've watched and listened to Madame Giry enough to know a few things," he replies confidently, striding out into the middle of the roof. He puts a hand on his mask, as though to make certain it will stay on, before leaping up and spinning. I stand and watch as he 'dances' his way around the roof. I giggle as I watch, I can't help it, his technique is terrible! I would describe it as like watching an elephant dance, but Erik is so long legged and slender that I believe that would be quite inaccurate.

He leaps up and does several twirls before falling flat out on his stomach. I expect him to get up, but he remains sprawled out and I am suddenly worried he might have just hurt himself. I approach slowly though, because this might just be a trick or something!

"Erik?" I call, he doesn't answer as I approach and I am very worried. He was so stupid! Just as I'm about to bend down and touch his shoulder he grabs my ankles, catching me off-guard and nearly causing me to fall. "Ooof! Erik!" I say, trying to get him to let go. I spin and stomp, but he hangs on tightly, to the point where it almost hurts. Finally he releases me, standing up with a strange look on his face. He holds out his hand to me, but I slap it aside lightly and shove his shoulder, "That wasn't funny Erik! I was worried!"

"Worried? You lie!" he says, there's a mischievous look in his eyes as he says it, which makes me suspicious. What's he trying to do? Is he trying to get a reaction out of me? He shoves my shoulder back, a little harder than I'd shoved him but it doesn't hurt. Narrowing my eyes, I reach out to smack him, standing on the balls of my feet to reach since he's quite a bit taller than me. He grabs my wrist firmly, a little tighter than I would have liked, and begins pushing me down, a rather determined look on his face. "Relax," he tells me.

Relax? That's a little hard to consider, but I allow myself to bend back as he lowers me to the ground and then pulls me back up. I didn't relax entirely, I was still stiff, and he noticed. He drops my wrist and I take a few steps away from him, putting a bit of distance between us. I don't know what he's up to but I don't like it! I begin climbing up onto the pegasus statue but he picks me up bridal style and carries me back over to the middle of the roof before setting me down.

"Try again," he says.

I furrow my brow, "Try what again?"

"Try to hit me, like before."

"I wasn't trying to hit you! You're my friend!"

"Do you trust me then? As a, friend?"

I look up at him, and our eyes meet. It's rare for us to meet each other's gazes, even though we've been seeing each other every night for the past 8 months, but we do. There's an intensity to him that frightens me sometimes when we lock eyes, but tonight there's something different. His gaze is still just as commanding, just as intense, but I'm not as afraid. Finally I nod to him, "I trust you," I tell him, and I mean it.

He nods, "Then try to hit me again," he instructs.

Once again standing on the balls of my feet, I reach out to hit him, only to have him grab my wrist out of the air once again. "Now relax this time," he says, as he begins lowering me to the ground. This time, I let myself relax as he lowers me almost to the ground by my wrist and then pulls me all the way back up again.

For the second time we meet each other's gazes as he gently lowers my wrist down and places my hand on his shoulder, and brings my other hand up onto his other shoulder, "I'm going to spin you, just relax. Don't focus on anything else," he says, running his hands down my back and resting them on my waist. I stand on the ball of my foot and point my other foot out as he walks me around in a turn. Is he taking me through a pas de deux? I've never danced with a partner before!

He walks around me several times before stopping and letting me go again, only for him to grab me by the waist again and lift me. I comply, slightly startled, raising my arms and trying to copy what I've seen the lead ballerinas do when lifted by their partners. In silence we continue this strange dance, Erik constantly lifting, spinning, and dipping me. I'm not sure why I trust him, considering he's had no training at all and has really no idea what he's doing. But each time he dips and drops me down he catches me, so I suppose he's very quickly earning my trust as a partner.

Finally he puts me down, and I look up at him, "So how was that?"

"Dance like that tomorrow at rehearsal and you'll be prima ballerina by the time the season starts," he says, slightly breathless from running me all over the roof. He's going to be feeling this for a few days, I hardly even broke a sweat!

I shake my head and bump his shoulder playfully, "Yeah ok, if you say so Mr. Phantom."

He huffs before lying on the ground and sprawling out on his back. I laugh at him, "A little tuckered out?" I ask. He glares up at me, and I smile down at him before lying on the ground beside. "Wanna make another constellation?"

"Not tonight, all I see are ballerinas," he replies.

"Maybe you should stick with playing violin and singing, and I'll stick with the dancing."

"Well mademoiselle, I danced tonight so I think it's only fair that you sing for me tomorrow night."

I sit up sharply and smack him, "So this was a trick! I knew it!"

He laughs, "It didn't start out as a trick, I just got that idea now. Be fair and indulge poor Erik, please?"

I let myself flop back again, staring up at the sky, "I'll think about it. What do you need me for? Christine sings for you every Sunday when you teach her!"

Erik sighs, "Ah Christine, what a bright little cherub is she. Her voice is so pure, it hardly sounds like that of a child her age."

"She's nice enough. I'm worried about what those stagehands will do to her when she comes of age."

"They won't touch a hair on her little head so long as I have something to say about it!"

"Please don't kill anyone over it Erik, I'll keep an eye on her if that makes you feel better."

He doesn't say anything for a long while before he turns his head and looks over at me, "Gabriella, do you think anyone could ever love me?"

"Well that was sort of, random..." I say, caught off-guard by his question. I know he's watching me carefully, waiting for an answer to a question I'm not sure has one. I mean, why wouldn't anyone love Erik? Once you got past all the intimidating and cold exterior there was a generally gentle nature underneath, a genius! A man who just wanted a peaceful, happy existence, but for whatever reason was denied it. Perhaps that's why he hides behind that mask? I still don't know.

Taking a deep breath, but keeping my gaze on the stars, I tell him, "I don't see why anyone couldn't love you, you're very kind to me. Why?"

There's a long silence before he answers me. I suddenly feel very tense and anxious over what explanation he could possibly have for such a question.

"I was wondering, since we're friends and you are not afraid of me, do you love me?"

Do I love him? What a question to ask me, since I really don't know the answer. Ever since I first heard his voice, I've been drawn to him. But could it be love? Or is it simply a childish crush on a mysterious man hiding behind a mask and an infamous name? I just don't know! But I don't think I can tell Erik that, not when he's looking at me in such a way.

Swallowing, I look over at him, "Erik, there are many types of love. I love you as my dear friend, but I don't love you in a romantic sense. I don't love anyone that way, I'm probably never going to marry."

"Never going to marry? A beautiful mademoiselle like you? Why ever not?"

"I don't know, perhaps I'll change my mind someday but at the moment I don't want to marry, I'm not ready for that sort of thing. I just want to focus on my career, you know?"

Erik stands up very suddenly, and offers a hand to me to help me to my feet. I allow him to pull me up before I brush out my skirts, "It's getting late, we should have departed long ago. Besides, I've kept you from your surprise."

I blink at him, "Surprise? What surprise?"

He smirks at me, "It wouldn't be a surprise if I told you now would it be?"

What is he talking about? He's been acting so strange tonight, I'm a little concerned honestly. I turn to go back inside but I stop before I do, "You'll be here tomorrow night, won't you?" I ask. I've never asked him that, not since the first night we met here on the roof.

There's a long pause before he replies, "It is not a question of whether I will be here, but whether you will be."

Immediately I spin around to face him, walking up to him, "What do you mean?" I ask.

He looks away from me, "Your surprise will mean the end of our friendship."

"Is it a bad surprise? Oh Erik if you've killed someone I won't hold it against you just tell me what he did!"

Erik looks up at me sharply, "I haven't killed anyone! And don't shout such a thing out in the open for God's sake!"

I approach him slowly, placing a tentative hand on his arm, "Then what? Erik we'll always be friends, I'm here for you. You asked me to trust you tonight, and I did. Now you must trust me when I tell you that I will never stop liking you as my friend. What must I do to prove that?" I ask him.

He takes my hand off his arm gently, holding it for a moment, "Be here tomorrow night, at our usual time and not a moment later."

"Of course I'll be here," I tell him, nodding. I know he doesn't believe me, but I'll just have to prove him wrong! We bid each other goodnight and I walk down to the dormitories, expecting everyone to be asleep like usual. Only, they aren't asleep. In fact, far from it. They're all crowded in a large group, chatting excitedly about something.

Suddenly I hear my name, said in a very familiar voice. I know that voice, but it can't be that person it just can't. "I'm here!" I call out. Everyone turns to look at me, and the center of attention pushes their way out of the center of the group right to the front.

"Gabriella!" I can't believe it, and now I understand why Erik was acting so strange tonight. Lizzy has returned.


	8. Nighttime Fever

How I have missed Lizzy in so many ways, but at the moment I wish she would be silent for just a moment. We're all in the rehearsal room finishing our stretches, a ritual typically done in silence due to the concentration required, however Lizzy hasn't shut up since she got up this morning.

I'm not quite sure how she has so much to talk about either, in fact from the sound of things she was trapped in her bed for months. She's showing it too, she's gained at least fifteen pounds since I last saw her and stretches that once came easily to her now seem to pose her a bit of a problem. She is just barely able to slide down into a split, and she makes a face as she does so.

"I don't remember that being so hard," she says, smiling. It's not really something she should be smiling about, it could mean a lot of trouble for her as far as her position goes if she doesn't get back in shape.

Still, Lizzy is my friend and I have to be patient with her. I guess I'm just not used to her anymore, and I feel slightly guilty at the thought. I'd gotten so used to missing her quietly, now she was beside me, as chatty and excitable as she ever was. I smile at her, "Well Lizzy, you've been gone a very long time. You're just not used to it anymore. You have a lot of work to do to catch up."

She nods, growing serious for the first time since she's been here, "Don't I know it! It feels so overwhelming, all this work I have to do. I'm so worried Gabriella! What if I can't get back into dancing shape before the season starts? I don't want to sit out the first opera of the season!" she says anxiously.

I pull myself to my feet, offering a hand down to Lizzy to help her up, "Lizzy you were so naturally talented before the accident, you'll catch up in no time. It'll come back to you before you know it. Ballet is like riding a bicycle, you can never forget!"

"Really? I've never ridden a bicycle before. Have you?"

"Well, no. My father used to use that expression," I confess, I can't help but smile.

Lizzy laughs, and the sound of it is music to my ears. I've missed her laughter and cheer so much! "We're going to have to ride bicycles someday! Even if it's improper for ladies, I want to try it!"

Madame Giry enters the room at that moment, and our conversation ends there as we all find a place on the barre and begin working. Lizzy is still slightly distracting, but eventually I manage to focus on my dancing, remembering how I felt last night when Erik was working with me and trying to recreate it. As I dance across the floor during one of the new routines I hear Madame Giry compliment me, and I can't help but glow with pride.

When rehearsal ends we all sit on the floor to stretch a final time and remove our shoes, however I catch Lizzy being told to keep her shoes on. Looks like I won't have too much trouble getting up to the roof tonight after all. I pull on my soft ballet slippers and wave to poor Lizzy before racing towards the dormitories. I make quick work of changing out of my practice dress into a rather plain blue day dress. As I'm changing, I hear a rather loud rumble of thunder outside.

Thunder isn't going to stop me, nor is a bit of lightning. The roof is perhaps the worst place to be in a storm, but I'm sure Erik won't keep me waiting. I have to go, Erik seemed to doubt me so much yesterday I am quite eager to prove him wrong. I will be his friend despite Lizzy being back, in fact I want to talk to him about my concerns for her condition as a dancer.

I don't bring a cloak or a jacket with me, since I don't believe I'll be outside in the rain very long. A glance at the clock in the dormitory shows that it is a bit earlier than the usual time I meet up with Erik, but I'm still not very concerned about it. Confidently, I make my way up to the roof, smiling at people as I pass them and even offering brief greetings to those who say hello to me.

When I reach the door, I have to fight the raging wind outside to push it open. Once I've won I step outside only to have the door slam shut behind me with likely no chance of being opened again. At least, not while this storm is here. The heavy rain instantly drenches me, and I attempt to take cover at the base of one of the pegasus statues, curling up into a tight ball beneath the massive stone horse. It only helps a little, but it's better than being completely exposed to the elements.

As lightning flashes across the sky, I watch it with timid fascination. Lightning bolts are strangely beautiful, despite the danger and havoc they can bring. No two bolts are exactly alike, and they never strike the same place twice. Even though the lightning and thunder do not frighten me, I still wish that Erik would hurry up. It's very cold out here, and the rain stings my face when the wind sends it in my direction.

Though I tried very hard to keep my eyes open, at some point I must have drifted off for suddenly I am woken up by someone shaking me urgently. I open my eyes and look up, having to wipe my face that is dripping with water. Erik's white half mask gives him away, and I internally huff at him. It's about time he got here I'm freezing!

"Are you crazed child? You'll catch your death out here waiting for me!" he says, offering me his hand.

I take his hand and allow him to help me down from my hiding place. I about to give a witty response to his statement when a bout of coughs tears its way from my throat. Erik looks at me, concern etched on the visible side of his face. "I'm fine," I manage to croak between fits of coughing.

He doesn't respond, and instead leads me out of the rain and into a passageway I've never seen before. I can't exactly see it now either, since it's so dark I cannot even see my hand in front of my face. Erik squeezes my hand, "Do you trust me?" he asks. I want to say yes of course I do but instead more coughs erupt from my throat and I can only follow him and gasp for a breath or two between bouts of coughing.

This passageway is freezing, probably more cold than it was outside. Erik must feel me trembling for after a short while he stops and drapes his cloak over my shoulders. Oddly enough though, it doesn't help me at all despite how heavy the fabric is. I don't say anything to him though, I don't say anything as I begin to feel a bit lightheaded due to my struggle to breathe nor do I tell him that I am still freezing despite the warm cloak he's wrapped me in.

Erik and I are beginning to near a light source when I can't walk anymore. I lean against the damp wall of the passage and cough. I feel as though I'll certainly hack up one of my lungs if I don't stop soon. Erik is at my side in an instant, his fingers lightly brushing the top of my arm.

"Can you continue without fainting?" he asks me. I genuinely have to think about the question for a few moments. The strong part of me wants to immediately nod at him and tell him that of course, this little cold I've caught certainly won't prevent me from walking. However my shaking knees and pounding head say otherwise. I push myself off the wall and attempt to keep walking, but my knees give out not more than ten steps down the passageway and Erik catches me, lying me down on the stone floor.

How long was I outside? It couldn't have been more than a few minutes? Why am I feeling so horrible then? A few minutes out in the rain could give me a cold but surely not this? Erik hovers over me, crouching beside me he removes one of his black gloves and presses the back of his hand to my forehead. He draws it back quickly, "What time did you go out onto the roof?" he asks me.

"7:45" I manage to hack. We usually meet between 8 and 9, so I knew I wasn't horribly early or unreasonable.

"Do you know that it is nearly midnight you foolish child? You've been out in this weather for nearly 5 hours!" he tells me. What? Midnight? How can that be? I'm so confused, but I don't have long to be confused when I am forced to roll over as another coughing fit takes me. My throat is raw and each cough hurts more than the last, I feel tears beginning to trickle down my cheeks and I look up at Erik.

"Sorry," I croak, gasping for air. I squeeze my eyes shut and attempt to focus on breathing when I get the chance. Erik picks me up and begins carrying me down a passageway, away from the light source.

He sighs, "I was going to bring you back to the dormitories but that will never do. You'll come with me until you are well again, since this is my fault," he says. I don't listen to him, for I feel my eyes beginning to droop shut as I lean my head against his shoulder. The lake is just coming into view is my last memory before darkness takes me.

Everything after that moment is a blur. Sometimes I think I hear voices, and feel things, but I'm not sure whether they're real or just my mind playing mean tricks on me. I believe I hear Madame Giry at one point, and at another point I hear another man whose voice I don't recognize. He sounds foreign, but I can't tell and who knows if he's even real or not.

Then at another point, I hear Erik very close to my bedside as he places a wet cloth on my forehead and gives me something to drink that soothes the burning in my throat. He sings softly under his breath as he helps me. I do believe it is the most beautiful angelic voice I've ever heard and it instantly sends me into a comfortable sleep rest.

However my rest is not always so pleasant, and at times I wake in the night covered in sweat and frightened. I see flames lapping at the walls, surrounding me. The smoke forces me to cough and struggle for breath and I cry out for help but no one is there. Not my parents, not Madame Giry, not Lizzy or even Christine. Not even Cesar, my beautiful Cesar, answers my cries. Instead the smoke and shadows pin me down, like monsters, and try as I might to fight against them they are far stronger than me and I am reduced to nothing more than feeble tears as the monsters win and drag me into the dark.

One night I am certain I see the devil himself, but I can't be sure if it's real or not. I scream and cough in my delirium, and in my fright manage to stumble out of my bed and out of the room. Erik catches me as I stumble down the steps, and I weep into his arms. I babble to him that I don't want to go to hell, that I don't want to die. As he carries me back to my room he speaks soothingly to me, before singing softly in a language I cannot quite understand since it doesn't sound like french to me.

How many nights this goes on, I'm not sure, but one day I awake and things are a little clearer. My throat still feels raw but not so much. Erik is sitting in a chair near my bedside, reading a book of some kind. I can't quite see the title from where I lay, but for all I know it might not even be in french.

"Erik," I call out, my voice feels strange and I can hardly say his name louder than a whisper.

He immediately looks up at me, "Seeing you alert is a blessing, how do you feel?"

"Tired," I confess.

"I would imagine. You've been ill for quite a few days now my dear. I expect you'll need a few more days to fully recover," he tells me, almost indifferently. As I look around the room, I feel slightly confused. It doesn't look anything like the room I remember from before.

I look back at him, "Where am I?" I ask him.

He chuckles, "Welcome into my house, since you are my friend this time and not an intruder, I have brought you in here to recover in peace. It is nice is it not?"

His house? I struggle to sit up, but end up collapsing against the pillows weakly. It looks just like any ordinary house! "Are we still under the opera house?" I ask him, truly curious. I feel as though we must be, for I don't remember leaving the opera house at any point.

Erik nods, pointing to the wall on the far side of the room, where a heavy red velvet curtain is covering a small doorway. "Through that passage leads to the beach as well as my organ and the spare bedroom I have there for when I don't wish to leave my work for a long period of time. I keep my organ there as it needed a larger space and the resonance off the cave walls is surprisingly good," he explains to me.

"And you keep all that unfinished?" I ask, the words tickle my throat and I cough. But it is not nearly as bad as it had been before and I manage to compose myself much quicker. Only once I have ceased my coughing does Erik answer my question.

"I never felt like finishing it. I feel the simplicity of just the cavern walls and floor help me to think better when I am composing, as well as working on opera business."

This is very interesting and I find myself wanting very much to explore Erik's actual house. This room alone is much like a regular bedroom I would have had at my house. What other rooms might he have? A kitchen? A living room? A music room? Erik pushes me down against the pillows, as though sensing my thoughts, "I shall give you a tour when you have regained some of your strength. For now you must rest, here, this will help soothe your throat," he says.

He pulls out a bottle of some mysterious liquid, pouring it onto a teaspoon and holding it out to me. I am suspicious of it, but I have to trust that it will help me. I open my mouth and accept the medicine quietly, despite how disgusting it tastes. Erik places the bottle and spoon on a bedside table to my right, next to a single candle that looks as though it has been burning quite a long time.

"How long have I been ill?" I ask him.

Erik shakes his head, "Don't you mind that. Just focus on getting well again."

"What was that medicine you just gave me?" I ask, because it did indeed soothe my throat. It tickles far less to speak.

He smirks before rising, "You ask too many questions child, now go to sleep so I might return you before you become as out of shape as Lizzy."

"How is Lizzy?" I can't help but ask.

His visible eyebrow raises, and I pull up my covers to my chin sheepishly, "I'll just stop asking questions now," I tell him.

At that he actually smiles, it is a small and gentle smile, and it makes him appear very handsome. He should smile more often. "Good girl. Goodnight Gabriella," he calls before leaving the room. Once he is gone my mind fills with many questions, about Lizzy, about Madame Giry, about this place, and especially about Cesar. I'm sure I've been ill for days at least, my poor stallion must believe I've abandoned him!

But I can't think about it too hard, Erik is right. I need to focus on resting and recovering. I genuinely feel better now, so it shouldn't take too long. At least, I hope it doesn't.


End file.
